


Behavior

by ClaireScott



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Apologies, Established Relationship, F/M, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Maledom/Femsub, SNAFU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:23:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6820963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireScott/pseuds/ClaireScott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've made a mistake and Juice is pissed. One more mistake and Juice is even more pissed. Oh, shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First mistake. Second mistake.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language. I apologize for all the mistakes. Three times in a row, if you want.

You’re angry, upset and really pissed off. The text messages Juice sent you over the last three hours were increasingly aggressive and furious. You have no idea what his fucking problem is but you will know. In exact twenty seconds. Juice ordered you to TM, to the clubhouse. STAT. And here you are. You storm in, seeing empty tables, hearing a somehow peaceful silence. Chucky stands at the bar as ever, giving you a broad smile.  
“Hey,” he greets, “how are you, hon?”  
“Where’s Juice?” You ask, gritting your teeth.  
“Chapel,” he answers, pointing to the door.  
Three seconds later you’re there, pushing down the handle.  
“Hey!” Chuck calls, but he’s too late.  
You run in the room, stopping short as you see all members sitting at the table.  
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Chibs asks, leaning backward, looking over his shoulder at you.  
“You’re interrupting church, Y/N,” Clay states and you hiss: “I give a goddamn fuck about your goddamn church.”  
You see Tig and Happy turning around to look at you, but your gaze is locked with Juice’s.  
“I’m here as you demanded. So what’s the fucking problem, Juice?” You ask totally bugged out, ignoring Chibs question and the staggered murmur of the other members.  
Juice stands up slowly, giving Clay a questioning look: “Five minutes?”  
“Yeah, okay. You got ten. Coffee break, gentlemen.” Clay answers, giving you an evil eye. “That’ll be topic later,” he goes on and you’re not sure if he talks to you or to Juice. And you give a rat’s ass about it.  
Juice comes around the table, grabbing your arm and pulling you with him.  
“Let me go, Juice!” You hiss. “I’m perfectly able to walk by myself.”  
“Oh, really? You sure? Didn’t look so last night.”  
He shoves you in the bathroom, locking the door behind him.  
“What's that going to be when it's at home?” You ask, trying to reach the door handle.  
“Just a conversation, honey.” Juice spits, clenching his jaw. “Hands off the door.”  
You fold your arms, leaning against the sink: “A conversation about what?”  
“About what happened last night.”  
“Nothing happened.” You state, giving a shrug. “I had a few drinks with Lyla at Five Oaks.”  
“Playing babe in the woods, huh? You were fucked up. Lyla called me for giving you a lift, remember?”  
You shake your head; embarrassingly you can’t remember a goddamn thing of last night. Maybe it’s the hangover making you feel so upset and bugged out. The fact that Juices constantly messaged you prevented you from sleeping and that did nothing good for your shitty mood. You want him to come to the point, give him hell for his ruthless behavior and go back to your apartment to catch some more sleep.  
“We were just halfway home from our run so I needed more than one hour to come to the Five Oaks. Just as I parked my bike you were carried out, Y/N. Some fucking hipster mama’s boy carried you bride style to his car. I followed you and your new friend, ya know? He drove you home, accompanied you to your apartment. He kissed you good bye, remember? He stuffed his fucking tongue so deep in your throat I feared it’d come outta your ass in the next few seconds.”  
Oh, shit. You remember this guy but you thought it’s been a weird dream. You make a face whispering some very dirty curses.  
Juice folds his arms, leaning at the door, watching you closely.  
“I’m waiting,” he says in a low tone.  
“Oh god, Juice. I can barely remember. I’m sorry, so sorry. I didn’t want him to bring me home. And I didn’t want him to kiss me. Oh, fuck!”  
“And?”  
“It won’t happen again.” You stare at the floor, thinking about how damn stupid you are.  
“I hope so. You get a second chance, babe. But no third. Once I catch you playing around again you’re out. Got me?”  
“Yeah, of course.”  
The silence following your statement is getting unbearable and you wish you could go home, hiding under your blanket and waiting for the shame to lessen. You hear the members chatting and laughing outside, feeling Juice’s gaze roaming over your body.  
“Can I get a kiss?” You ask because he seems so aloof you don’t want to start one by yourself.  
Juice shakes his head: “I’m still pissed. Your behavior today didn’t make anything better. Plus: You’ll have to apologize. Come on, it’s time.”  
“Beg your pardon?”  
“You were bratty in your messages, bratty to me in front of my brothers and you offended them by interrupting church and being a bitch about it.”  
You stare at him in disbelief, and he opens the door, waving you out: “Come on.” 

He leads you to the chapel where all the members have taken their seats again. Everyone’s looking at you, summoning, expectant.  
“Y/N wants to tell you guys something.”  
You clear your throat, watching from Clay to Jax, Bobby, Piney, Opie, Happy, Tig and Chibs.  
“I apologize for my behavior. I’m sorry for interrupting church, Clay.”  
“Apology accepted,” Clay answers, “Jax?”  
“Yeah.” Jax nods, pointing on Bobby who’s the next in row.  
“Okay”, Bobby says and Piney gives you a short nod, maybe saving his breath for more meaningful things.  
“Next time you’ll owe more than a lame–ass excuse,” Opie grins and gives you a wink.  
“Hap?” Clay asks as the man stays silent.  
“Wanna hear it again. Just for me,” Happy states and you swallow hard.  
“I apologize for my behavior. I was upset and angry and tired out. I’m sorry for interrupting church, Happy. It won’t happen again.”  
“Good girl,” Happy mumbles. “I’m okay with that.”  
“Me too. If you say ‘Bless me, Tig, for I have sinned’.” The broad smile Tig gives you over his shoulder makes you nearly laugh.  
“Bless me, Tig, for I have sinned,” you repeat obediently and see all the men grinning, Juice included.  
“I absolve you from your sins, baby”, Tig answers and Chibs chuckles: “Very catholic. Wasn’t that supposed to be my part, Tiggy?”  
“Maybe. You forgive her too?”  
“I do. But Opie’s right: Next time such a lame apology won’t suffice, lass.”  
You nod, looking to Juice who returns to his seat.  
“I’ll meet you at home tonight,” he says giving you a small smile and Jax whistles impressed: “Someone’s still pissed, Y/N.”  
“I guess Y/N ends up on her knees tonight. There will be more blowing for apology instead of blessing,” Tig chuckles and the room burst in laughter.  
You close the door behind you, feeling really bad and awkward. Juice is still pissed, a state you know indeed but you were never the reason.  
“Bye, Chuck,” you say meekly, leaving the clubhouse without looking back. 

 

Juice texted you he’ll come over at 7 p.m. so you decided to cook dinner. You ate in awkward silence and you feel like shit. He’s so aloof, so restrained you can’t handle this. It’s not the Juice you know and love. You will never ever piss him off – quarrelling with him is pure horror.  
“Juice,” you say as he finished his meal and gives you a small ‘thank you’.  
“Yeah?”  
“Please, can we go back to normal again?”  
“No. There are two things missing.”  
“What’s missing?”  
He stands up, gesturing you to follow him. In your bedroom he closes the door behind you and folds his arms.  
“Strip,” he commands and you swallow hard.  
You strip down to your underwear and Juice grins: “I want you naked, babe.”  
You sigh, removing bra and panties, folding your arms to hide your breasts from his hungry gaze.  
“There’s one apology missing. Mine. You apologized by everyone in the club. Except me. Go on.”  
“Why do I have to be naked to apologize to you?”  
“Because I say so.” He grins.  
“That’s punishment.”  
“You have no idea what punishment is, right? Go on, or I’ll show you. Clay already said you’re in need of a proper spanking.”  
“Oh, my god!” You hedge at his gaze and his grin is getting bigger from second to second.  
“You enjoy this,” you whisper and he nods: “Didn’t claim the opposite, did I? I’m still waiting, baby, but my patience is wearing thin.”  
“I apologize for my behavior, Juice. Sorry for being bitchy, bratty and for interrupting church. And I’m so sorry for kissing this other guy.”  
“Say it again.”  
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. He makes you suffer to learn your lesson.  
“I apologize for my behavior. Sorry for being bitchy, bratty and for interrupting church. And I’m so sorry for kissing this other guy.”  
“Once more.”  
“I apologize for my behavior. Sorry for being bitchy, bratty and for interrupting church. And I’m so sorry for kissing this other guy.”  
“I really like that,” he grins and you see that your beloved Juice is nearly completely back. “So, but there’s still one thing missing.”  
“And that’s what?”  
“The spanking. You need one for being untrue, for drinking too much without my company, and for your behavior of course.”  
“Juice, I ...,” you whisper but he shakes his head, pointing on the edge of the bed.  
You swallow hard but you follow his orders. Maybe you truly deserved it. Placing your hands on the mattress, your ass high in the air you take a deep breath. He won’t be brutal. He won’t really hurt you he’s just making a point. A low moan escapes your lips as his fingers caressing your inner thighs, your ass and your spine. He goes tantalizing slow and the strain awaiting the first blow makes you nearly cry.  
“Please, get it over with” you whimper, “don’t be so fucking cruel, Juice.”  
“Why not? You nearly broke my heart. Let the punishment fit the crime, baby.”  
His erection pressed at your ass he leans forward, cupping your breast, pulling you up until you’re standing.  
“It’s okay, Y/N,” he whispers, “turn around and you get your kiss.”  
You do and his smile is as warm as it’s big. His lips finding yours and you sigh in relief.  
“No spanking?” You ask under your breath and he chuckles: “Course not.”  
“Why?”  
“Baby, if I ever spank you, I want you to want it too. Consensual. Got me?”  
You sigh deeply, closing your eyes, leaning your forehead on his collarbone: “Goddammit, Juice! You scared the shit outta me.”  
“That was the plan, Y/N. Now, be my good girl, go down on your knees and take me out. Clay has some brilliant ideas, but Tig’s are even better.”  
You open his belt, feeling deep relief. Everything’s back to normal again.  
“I love you, baby,” Juice sighs in the second you close your hand around his base.  
“Love you too,” you answer, licking over the head of his cock.


	2. Kugel with balls

A few days down the road, on Wednesday, to be precise, you’re standing in the kitchen, adding some seasoning to the potato kugel, a dish Juice loves since his childhood days in Queens.  
“What’s for dinner? Kugel? Fuck, I love you, babe,” Juice smiles and you shrug: “It’s nothing special. Wait until you’ve had the first bite.”  
Juice takes two plates out of the cupboard, placing them on the table as the doorbell rings.  
“Are you expecting a guest?” He asks, frowning.  
“No, not really. My mom said she would come over, but I’m quite sure she said on Thursday. Tomorrow.”  
Juice nods slowly: “Stay.”  
“Juice ...”  
“I said stay. Will you just once do what you’re told, woman?”  
You’re nodding your approval, watching him grabbing his gun and releasing the safety.  
“If you’re going to shoot my mom, Juice ...”  
“Shut up!” He hisses and places the gun with his left hand against the door leaf.  
He opens the door slowly and he stiffens, making you fumbling for your phone to call for help.  
“Hi,” he says and a deep male voice answers: “Hi.”  
You see Juice putting his gun in the waistband of his jeans and you take a deep breath. No need to be afraid. One of the club members. Most likely Happy, who’s too cheap to spend money on a short call, on announcing he’s coming for a visit.  
“I’m looking for Y/N. Is she here?”  
Now it’s you who stiffen. That isn’t Happy. No way.  
“Yeah. And you are?”  
“I’m Mike. Nice to meet you. Y/N invited me for dinner last Friday night.”  
“Cool. I’m Juice,” Juice says, sounding like the exact opposite of cool. He opens the door and makes an inviting gesture: “Come on in, you’re on time. Dinner’s ready.”  
“You’re her housemate?” Mike asks, following Juice in the kitchen.  
Oh. My. Fucking. God.  
It’s the guy from the Five Oaks. Oh, shit. Shit, shit.  
“Yeah, kind of,” Juice states and gives you a broad smile, combined with an evil “We’ll talk later”-look. “Hey, look who came for dinner, Y/N. It’s Mike! You told me so much about him, didn’t you? And he brings a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine! Isn’t that gorgeous, sweetheart?”  
You wince, forcing yourself to smile, to play along. You’re in deep, deep trouble. Juice is so damn pissed that you wonder why Mike doesn’t tear out of the apartment. But he doesn’t seem to notice. Or he doesn’t care. Whatever.  
“Yeah,” you manage, swallowing hard. “Hi, Mike.”  
“So,” Juice says, “I’m just grabbing a bowl of cereals and eat in the living room. Have fun you two.”  
“Juice ...,” you answer, blocking the fridge. “Please, don’t ...”  
“Get out of the way. Now.”  
You step aside, sending him a pleading look. Mike clears his throat and says: “That smells delicious. What’s that?”  
“It is delicious, my friend. One of my favorites. It’s potato kugel. Enjoy your meal.” He takes the milk out of the fridge, then reaching for a bowl and the cereals, searching for a spoon in the drawer.  
“Goddammit, Juice!” You shout, stamping your foot, “Stop it!”  
“I can’t stop, honey, I didn’t start it.”  
“You act like a five year old, you know that?”  
“What’s going on? Am I disturbing? I’m sorry but ... uhm ... you invited me for today.” Mike says, looking from Juice to you and back. “I thought you were serious and ...”  
“Shut up, fucker!” Juice hisses, stepping in Mike’s personal space. “This is a thing between my girl and me.”  
“You said you’re her housemate.”  
“Not quite right but close enough. I first of all exercise property rights on her pussy.”  
“Juice!” You shove him aside, not only because you’re angry about his sexist statement but also you don’t want Mike to get hurt.  
You know that Juice will break his nose, he’s seething with rage. You step between him and Mike, facing Juice, looking him in the eyes, starting an epic staring duel. His chest rises and falls fast, his jaw is clenched and he grabs your upper arm with one hand, the other tangled in your hair.  
“Take your fucking flowers and your cheffy wine and go before I beat you out of the door,” Juice hisses without breaking the staring duel. “Contact her once more and the next Wednesday kugel will contain your balls, got me?”  
“Okay, sorry, bro” Mike says and you hear the door thunk shut only five seconds later.  
“I don’t think it’s kosher,” you say and he asks without even blinking: “What?”  
“Kugel with his balls.”  
“I don’t care. Don’t even try to distract from your little dinner date with soon-to-be-castrated-fucking-asshole-Mike.”  
“Juice ...”  
“Yeah?”  
“I’m so sorry. I can’t remember this guy. And I have no idea why I invited him to our Wednesday dinner.”  
“Maybe because you want a new partner for your Wednesday dinners?”  
“No, never, Juice. I’m sorry.”  
“I’m not convinced.” He takes a step back, folding his arms.  
“What do you want me to do? To say?”  
“You can think about it through dinner. Come on. It’s nearly cold. And that’s a fucking shame.” 

The dinner is quiet and he does a very good job in making you feel how disappointed he is. After dinner you play a few rounds of his actual favorite video game and he’s not even smiling as he wins. You feel like shit. Again. And that’s your entire fault.  
“Juice?” You ask around 10 p.m., tossing the controller on the couch.  
“Yeah?”  
“Is there a possibility to help you letting off steam and disciplining myself at the same time? Would that make you feel better?”  
“Maybe. Ask and I’ll tell you. But ask nicely. Convince me.”  
You wince but his smile tells you that he’s truly enjoying this situation. You’re gonna give him what he demands. And you’ll never be this stupid again.  
“Juice?”  
“Yeah?”  
“My behavior was ... above bad. I deserve punishment.”  
You fall silent, waiting for his answer.  
“That’s all?” He asks scoffingly a few seconds later. “I said ask. Ask nicely. I didn’t hear any question marks.”  
“Oh, my fucking god ...” You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Juice, would you please discipline me?”  
“You sure you want that?” He smiles, leaning back, watching you closely.  
“Yeah. I want. I guess I could like it.”  
Juice chuckles and nods to the bedroom door: “Go in. Wait for me. Think about what you’ve done. To poor Mike and to the guy who owns your sweet pussy.”  
“Okay,” you say, standing up.  
“Wait. What was his name?”  
“Whose name?”  
“The name of the guy owning your pussy. Your mouth. And your gorgeous ass.”  
“His name is Juan Carlos,” you answer, smiling.  
“Say it again.”  
“Juan Carlos.”  
“Once more.”  
“Juan Carlos.”  
“Remember that, baby. And don’t you ever forget anymore.”  
You shake your head, heading to the bedroom. With shudder you think of your date with your mom tomorrow. She’ll slit her wrists if she’d know that her daughter just consented to a proper spanking. And it’s damn well deserved, as you must admit.


	3. Yellow. Red.

You shudder as Juice closes the bedroom door behind him. You didn’t know what to do so you took a seat on the edge of the bed, your hands decently folded in your lap.  
“All small and meek now, right?” Juice asks lowly and you nod, staring at the floor.  
He stops in front of you, towering impressively, his arms folded over his chest.  
“What’s the difference between me and any other man you’re interacting with?”  
“I ... I don’t know ... maybe ... uhm ... you’re my partner and I have no sex with other men?”  
“Forget about the question mark. Say it again.”  
“You’re my partner and I have no sex with other men.”  
“Who’s allowed to touch your tits?”  
“You, Juice.” You answer, clearing your throat.  
“Anyone else?”  
“No.”  
“Who’s allowed to touch your pussy?”  
“Only you, Juice.”  
“Who’s allowed to touch your ass?” He asks, lifting your chin up to gently force you to face him.  
“You. No one else.”  
“Who’s allowed to kiss you, to use your mouth, your pussy and your ass for his and your pleasure?”  
“It’s you.”  
He nods, giving you a small smile, caressing your cheek with his thumb.  
“I’m sorry, Juice. I don’t know what happened and ...”  
“Did he drug you? Put a roofie in your drink?”  
“No, I guess not. I wasn’t asleep and ...”  
“You were just a little bit drunk. You decided to have fun without me, to let this fucker touch you, kiss you and hell knows what else. You invited him to our dinner. We have our Wednesday dinner since the first week we’re together. It’s a tradition. Wednesday is our day.”  
You nod because you have no apology for this messed up bunch of shit you caused.  
“Take your pants off. Time to be disciplined.”  
Standing up you’re giving him an anxious look and he smiles again: “You’re afraid?”  
“Yeah, a bit.”  
His breath tickles your ear as he whispers: “Good. That deepens the lesson. Fear is the best teacher.”  
“Juice ... please ... now you’re scaring me ...,” you mumble while stepping out of your jeans and turning around to bend over the bed.  
“No. Lay on your back.”  
Frowning you turn around again, doing what he wants.  
“Spread and bend your legs, hands on the back of your thighs”, he commands. “Show me your pussy.”  
Your breathing gets heavier, faster, thinking about the exposed nature of the demanded position. Juice is still standing in front of the bed, enjoying the view.  
“A sight to behold,” he grins and you feel his fingers on the inside of your thighs, gently caressing the receptive skin there. “Look at me, Y/N.”  
You do, seeing the questioningly look on his face, one eyebrow lifted. You nod, giving him permission to go on, to touch you. To hurt you, discipline you.  
“Close your legs and we’ll start over. You’re not allowed to come, just to make this clear. Got me?”  
“As if ...,” You scoff and he smiles a bit, knowingly.  
“Twenty. Yellow for a break. Red to stop me completely. I’ll be soft enough, you won’t need it.”  
“That’s a ... a game for you?” You gasp, looking at him puzzled.  
“It’s not for you?” Now he looks a bit puzzled.  
“Oh ... uhm ... no,” you say, “I don’t know ... it’s ...”  
“Baby, I don’t discipline you without consent and the possibility to back down. If I do it would be domestic violence and I do hope you would kick my ass in this case.”  
“But ... but ... you’re so serious about it.”  
“That’s part of the fun. So, you’re still in?”  
You nod, thinking about it and add after a few seconds: “More than ever.”  
“Good,” he answers, parting your folds, flicking over your clit, drawing small circles around it.  
He smirks at your desperate gasping.  
“So wet already, baby. Yeah, you’re totally in. I can feel it. Right. Here.” He plunges two fingers at once into your pussy, deep and fast.  
“Oh ...,” you whisper, closing your eyes, moaning as he hits your g-spot.  
“You’ve got no permission to come, remember that, baby girl.”  
“Yeah ... yeah ... okay,” you whisper, sighing as he leaves your pussy.  
Next thing you experience is a loud slap, followed by a stinging pain on your labia.  
“Ouch!”  
“Not ouch, baby. One. Say it.”  
“One,” you gasp, preventing your legs from closing with pure willpower.  
He varies rhythm and force and you need everything you have to count and to keep your legs open. But it’s so good and you feel the delight in this spanking, sense the great trust you feel for him. You’re open, bare, naked, soft, compliant.  
“Eight...teen,” you stutter and he gives you a smile.  
“Last two ahead,” he whispers, “you’re brave, little one. Spread these pretty pink lips for me. Last two go for your clit.”  
“Oh, god, please, no!” You whisper, shaking your head vigorously.  
“Do it.” Two words, spoken with such authority, such strength and severity you can’t resist.  
Swallowing hard you spread your labia, exposing the most vulnerable point to him.  
You scream in horror as the first slap strikes home. Then you notice that the pain isn’t that bad, quite the contrary. He didn’t hit you full force, he was gentle. And your lust positively exploded under the influence of the slight pain and the great fear you’ve felt.  
He smirks again and you mumble a “nineteen, sorry.”  
“Not that for, baby,” he answers, lifting his hand to perform the final slap. “You’re horny as hell, right?”  
“Yeah.” You confess.  
“Won’t need much work anymore to make you come, right?”  
You nod, closing your eyes, waiting for the final blow. Not because you want to be over the bump, it’s because you liked it. Every second. From the moment you asked him for punishment until this last slap.  
He delivers it with a growl deep in his chest, leaning over you to cover your scream with a kiss.  
“Twenty,” you whisper on his lips, closing your legs to find some friction.  
“Good girl,” he answers lowly, “but if you make yourself come we’ll start again. I own this pussy, I call the shots. Got me?”  
“Yeah.”  
“What do you think good girls do after they got disciplined?” He asks, kissing your jaw line.  
“They say thank you maybe?”  
“They do, little one.”  
“Thank you, Juan, for disciplining me.”  
“You’re very welcome. Just ask if you feel like you need to be disciplined, baby.”  
“I’ll ask for it, yeah.”  
“Okay. Open my belt and take me out,” he whispers and you sigh happily.  
The invitation of Mike to your Wednesday dinner could be the best wrong decision you’ve ever made.

**Author's Note:**

> Want more? Message me. Prompt me.


End file.
